


third time lucky

by lecornergirl



Series: literally just sex wow [7]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-27 03:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15015395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecornergirl/pseuds/lecornergirl
Summary: They say bad things come in threes, so Clarke’s been waiting for the other shoe—or the third shoe, as the case may be—to drop all day.The night that she’s waiting for the third bad thing isn’t necessarily the night that she wants to spend with the person she’s been in love with for, conservative estimate, the past two years. That seems like asking for rejection, and she’d much rather just stick with the unrequited pining for her best friend, because it’s been working for her so far.





	third time lucky

**Author's Note:**

> me: i'm going to try to write for different fandoms to widen my range  
> me, two months later: still just writing a lot of bellarke

They say bad things come in threes, so Clarke’s been waiting for the other shoe—or the third shoe, as the case may be—to drop all day.

The day had gone bad pretty much as soon as it had started. She’d woken up and checked her phone as usual, only to see a text from Harper saying the position at her school, which Clarke had interviewed for last week, had been filled by someone else and Clarke would probably receive an official email later in the day.

She’d dragged herself out of bed and started the coffeemaker. As soon as she’d sat down with a fresh cup, ready to scroll through Twitter and get increasingly desolate at the state of the world, she’d heard the sound of the mail falling on her doormat, delivering what turned out to be a notice of a speeding ticket from a speed camera she hadn’t noticed—on her way home from the job interview, based on the camera’s time stamp.

Pretty soon after that, Clarke had heard her grandma’s voice echoing in her head, saying _bad things come in threes_. So she’d decided to spend the rest of the day at home, planted firmly on the couch, trying to minimise the possible bad things that could happen. At least this way she wouldn’t get hit by a bus, or get stuck on a collapsing bridge, or get hit by a piano falling out of a window.

Besides, she has jobs to apply for.

It’s around lunchtime when she comes across a tweet of a “rare elephant strawberry, RT for good luck, ignore for 11 years bad luck” and decides that with the day she’s had so far, she’s not risking it.

Every email notification is a small heart attack that sets her off wondering what else could go wrong, and they all end up being promotions, advertising 10% off this or an exclusive new line that. She should really unsubscribe from some of these mailing lists. Monty texts her, and she’s half expecting it to say there was a terrible accident and someone’s in the hospital, but he just wants to make sure they’re still on for game night tomorrow.

Finally, around four o’clock, Clarke shuts off her computer, leaves her phone on the kitchen counter, and settles on the couch with a book she’s been meaning to read for the last six months. Maybe if news of a bad thing can’t get to her, it won’t happen. She’s not entirely clear on how this superstition business works.

She manages to engross herself in the book for a good two hours, almost forgetting about the third shoe looming above her head. Which, of course, is when the doorbell rings.

Clarke opens the door, and it’s Bellamy, because of course it is. Who else would turn up at her door, brandishing takeout but decidedly unannounced? Her heart drops to her stomach, because the night that she’s waiting for the third bad thing isn’t necessarily the night that she wants to spend with the person she’s been in love with for, conservative estimate, the past two years. That seems like asking for rejection, and she’d much rather just stick with the unrequited pining for her best friend, because it’s been working for her so far.

“Uh,” she says, and Bellamy frowns.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I tried calling, but you didn’t pick up.”

“Yeah, I left my phone in the kitchen.”

“Don’t you have iMessage on your computer? Didn’t you see my messages?” He looks concerned, now, and Clarke realises there’s no way she’s going to be able to turn him away without explaining what she’s been doing all day, and no way to explain without it sounding more than slightly ridiculous.

“I, um,” she starts. “It’s… been a day.”

Bellamy’s expression immediately flips to concern, and he pushes past her into the apartment, heading straight for the kitchen. It was probably foolish of her to expect she’d be able to send him on his way anyway.

Clarke trails behind him and watches him take out the various containers of Thai food, decanting them onto plates and dishes that he finds as easily as if he was in his own kitchen. Which, going by who cooks there the most, he might as well be.

“Netflix?” he asks, and she nods. He picks up as much of the food as he can and heads for the living room, and she gets the rest of it, following suit and watching where she steps, because tripping and sending all the food flying everywhere would definitely count as a third bad thing. She makes a point of leaving her phone on the counter, unchecked.

Bellamy is already on the couch, in the spot that became his almost as soon as she moved into the apartment. He’s flipping through Netflix, appearing to settle on Brooklyn Nine-Nine as she sits down next to him.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” she says, settling in and digging into her food.

“So, a day, huh,” Bellamy comments once the cold open gives way to the title sequence.

“Yeah, it’s—okay, so, this is going to sound ridiculous, but you know how bad things always come in threes?”

“They do?” he asks, mild.

“I don’t know, my grandma always said they do, it was just one of those things I accepted. So at the point where I’d barely finished my morning coffee and I’d already gotten a job rejection and a speeding ticket, I figured I might as well just lie low for the day.”

“You’re right, that does sound a little ridiculous,” Bellamy concedes. “Since when have you been superstitious? I don’t remember that being a thing before.”

“That’s the thing, I’m not usually! I just—I couldn’t stop thinking about the threes, and I guess I got into my own head, and it made me a little paranoid.”

“Is that why you weren’t looking at your phone?”

Clarke looks down at the floor as she mumbles, “I thought maybe if I couldn’t find out about bad things, they wouldn’t happen.”

If she didn’t know Bellamy so well, she wouldn’t recognise the signs, but he’s definitely trying very hard not to laugh.

“Okay, well, I don’t know how to ward against… whatever fate it is that groups bad things into threes, but if a third bad thing happens, I’ll be here to deal with it with you, okay?”

Clarke knows he’s at least half mocking her, but it makes her feel better all the same.

 

Halfway through their third episode, they’re sprawled over the couch, drifting gradually closer until they’re a single pile of limbs. On any other night, she’d be trying to find a way to subtly press closer to him, trying to work up the nerve to take the next step, but tonight she can’t relax.

“You’re so tense,” Bellamy says, poking at her shoulder. “Still waiting for the third bad thing?”

Clarke mumbles in assent, and she can’t see it, but his answering smile is soft, fond.

“Come here,” he says, lifting an arm, and she burrows into his side. He tucks his arm around her waist, and she feels safe.

 

Ten minutes later, his fingers are tracing patterns into her side, and she can’t stop thinking about the third bad thing. Either he’s doing it subconsciously, not even realising he’s doing it, or he’s only doing it because he hasn’t gotten laid in a while and she’s right there. Either one would more than count as the third shoe crashing down.

Against every instinct telling her to leave his hand where it is, she grabs his wrist, forcing him to still.

“Clarke?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

“Bellamy,” she whispers. “Please—please don’t be my third bad thing.”

He turns his head, meeting her gaze. “I was hoping this would be a good thing, actually.” His hand finds his way under her shirt, fingers splaying over the bare skin of her side. “Was I wrong?”

“Tell me it’s not just because I’m here,” Clarke says, and she’s sure he can see the desperation in her eyes. “Tell me—”

“I love you,” he interrupts her.

“Oh,” Clarke has time to say, before he kisses her.

It only lasts a brief moment before he pulls back to look at her. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”

“I love you too,” she says in response, threading her hands in his hair and pulling him back into a kiss. He guides her down onto the couch, crowding her into the cushions and hitting his head on the armrest.

Clarke laughs. “Want to take this to my room?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Bellamy says, eyes darkening, and then she’s shrieking as he picks her up off the couch and carries her to her bed.

He’s kissing her again before her back even hits the bed, hands working at the bottom of her sweater, trying to pull it off. She acquiesces, tugging his t-shirt off at the same time, then pulling him right back in, running her hands over his back.

Clarke sighs as his fingers ghost down her sides, returning to unhook her bra. He mutters something when he sees her breasts; she can’t quite make out the words, but the tone is definitely appreciative.

She closes her eyes as he plays with her breasts, gasping when suddenly there’s a hand between her legs. “Someone’s eager,” she teases with a grin, reaching up to chase a kiss.

“Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about this?” Bellamy asks, but any potential answer is lost to the moan she lets out when his hand slides into her underwear.

Clarke’s been halfway there since the first moment Bellamy kissed her, so even though the angle isn’t great because she’s still wearing her leggings, it only takes a few strokes of his fingers—the fingers she’s imagined inside her so many times—before she’s gasping his name and clenching around him.

“Oh my god,” she says when she’s had a second to catch her breath.

“I’m just getting started, princess,” Bellamy replies, and she can’t see his face, but she can hear the smirk. “If bad things come in threes, what about good things?”

For the first time all day, Clarke hadn’t been thinking about the number three, but now the mention of it sent thrills running through her. “Guess we’ll have to find out,” she says, Bellamy already dragging her leggings down her legs.

Bellamy takes his time with the second orgasm. He kisses her slowly, one thumb brushing over a nipple, the other rubbing circles into her hip. When she tries to speed things up, or to touch him in return, he grabs her wrists and pins them above her head, then bends down to flick her nipple with his tongue.

After what seems like an eternity, but is probably only a minute or two, he starts kissing his way down her body. Clarke cries out when his tongue finally makes contact with her clit, and her moans only get louder when he slides a finger inside her again, coaxing until she comes apart again.

“Two down, one to go,” Bellamy whispers in her ear as he reaches over to her nightstand to find a condom, and she shudders in anticipation.

He maintains eye contact as he thrusts into her for the first time, and that alone is almost enough to push her over the edge again. He moves in long, slow strokes, like they have all the time in the world—and in a way they do, because Clarke certainly isn’t planning on going anywhere.

She knows he’s getting close when he starts moving faster, so she reaches between them to rub at her clit. The pulsing of her building orgasm triggers his, and he drops his head onto her shoulder, both of them content to just lie there for a second, riding out the aftershocks. There are things to clean up, but for a moment they can just lie there, the weight of Bellamy’s body pressing comfortingly into Clarke, her fingers scratching softly at his scalp as she kisses his forehead.

 

The next morning, as Bellamy makes coffee, Clarke sends a tweet: “listen i’m not saying the good luck elephant necessarily works but i definitely got lucky”.

**Author's Note:**

> i ignored the good luck elephant yesterday and got a speeding ticket notice and forgot my railcard in quick succession, i'm not fucking with the good luck elephant


End file.
